Rectangles
by never-give-up-hope2
Summary: One thing I have noticed about you Americans is that you always seem to prefer the right than the left,"


**I have absoultely no idea what this is. At all. I was just sitting there, drawing rectangles in chemistry and I suddenyl noticed how we all seem to do them down, along to the right, up and then along to the left. Everyone. I was extremely bored in chemistry and from that boredom, this fic was born. **

**Ziva's comment to 'You Americans' is for this story. It bears no truth at all. Please, do not take offence. **

**Discalimer: I don't own words, I don't own , I don't own Microsoft Word, I don't even own my own laptop! How on earth can you expect me to own NCIS?**

**P.S. I also have tumblr! Check my bio for more details :)**

**I'm also going to delete my story 'One Chance' because I have decided that I really don't like it and it's cluttering up my account. If you by any chance would like a copy, then please either drop a review or PM me x **

* * *

He sits alone, shrouded in the darkness of the bar. He's alone and happy about that because after the day he's had, he can't quite face anyone else. Normally, comfort would be a comfort right now but it's not because he's not sure if he would be able to joke about it and keep the smile on his face this time.

Because Tony DiNozzo is supposed to have a smile for every thunderstorm.

* * *

"_You draw your rectangles weird," he comments and watches as Ziva's pen stills from where she's been doodling idly. He's delighted to have caught her out on this because since when do ex-assassins doodle rectangles on the back of takeout menus? _

_She turns to face him. "I do not. You draw yours weird." _

_It's an interesting statement so he grabs the menu and draws one of his own. Down, along to the right, up and along to the left. The way you're meant to do it. _

"_No, they're not. See," he says and draws one again, saying his movements as he's doing it. _

_Ziva's brow furrows and she grabs the pen with a little more force than necessary. "No, it is this way. Along to the left, down, along to the right and up. How is that weird?" _

_Tony can't understand how she doesn't see it. "Because it is."_

* * *

The waitress asks if he would like anything else but he declines. The last thing he needs is to drown is sorrows until his thought blur into one. Because for once he doesn't want his thoughts to be unrecognisable.

That would be too easy.

* * *

"_One thing I have noticed about you Americans is that you always seem to prefer the right than the left," Ziva comments. _

"_No we don't!" Tony exclaims, "It's just a rectangle. How can you have noticed something like that from a doodle?" _

"_It is not just the rectangle. It is life. Most people are right-handed, you write from left to right and if there is an option, you turn right," Ziva says coolly. _

"_Aha, but you missed something, my little psychologist. We also go left as well," Tony says. _

"_Not before you go right."_

* * *

Tony puts down some money on the table next to his empty glass and leaves. He doesn't even really know why he's here. It's not a particularly hard day for him, nor was it a particularly hard case. It's just an ordinary September night.

_September _

The word dances around his head, expelling from him in a breath of white as it clicks. So does the date. All of a sudden he needs to get to her as fast as he can, because today is a day that nobody should spend alone. Alone with the past is never good. He knows. Except she's never seemed to have the problems he does.

Because while he never stops living in the past, she never stops running from it.

* * *

"_What are you saying?" he asks because he's confused. _

"_What are you scared of? Why are you scared to go right instead of going left?" She persists, ignoring him entirely. He decided it's for the best, English has never been her strong point. _

"_I'm not afraid of anything. What are you so afraid of? You go from right to left," he challenges but instead of her backing down, Ziva meets him with a cool smile. _

"_Now you are forgetting something. I go both ways." _

"_Hey!" he cries. "It's not my fault I don't write Hebrew." _

_Ziva glares at him. "That is not what I was saying and you know it. I know it is not your fault. I go both ways," she says and demonstrates by drawing a square, which is done in the same way he draws a rectangle. The pattern is smooth, not forced for his benefit and he is forced to agree with her. _

"_So," she persists again, "What are you scared of? What is on the left side that scares you so much?" _

"_The civil war costume my dad made me wear as a kid," he smiles, not in the least bit serious. _

_The hurt in her eyes only lasts for a second, but he still sees it._

* * *

It's in his mind as he drives to her apartment as fast as he can. How could he explain that she's on the left side. She's the unknown, what he was too afraid to tell her. Ziva's been standing at the left side, waiting for him to turn and he's never done it because he's been hoping that she'll turn right. Except that she hasn't and he knows why.

She's sick and tired of making herself bend to fit other people.

* * *

"_What are you scared of?"_

* * *

Her. He's always been afraid of her. And not in the way most people might think. He's afraid of hurting her and afraid of not being good enough and he's afraid of her rejection. Tony's felt it before and he's terrified of being hurt again. Though, now that he thinks about it, probably so is she.

He makes it to her apartment and sprints up the stairs. It's pure luck that he doesn't slip and fall to his death. When he reaches the right apartment, he bangs on her door incessantly until she opens the door.

* * *

"_What is on the left side that scares you so much?"_

* * *

"You," he says, wasting no time. "Your on the left side. God, I'm so sorry for not answering seriously but it's you. Your on the left side and God knows I want to go there but I can't. The right is easier. It's easier for me because I don't have to worry about getting hurt or hurting you. But dammit, I'm sick and tired of going the easiest way. I'm sick and tired of making up poor and pathetic excuses for myself. So I'm going to put this out there. Ziva David, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

And before she can respond, his lips are on hers and his hands are in her hair. It's a precious few seconds before he pulls away and looks at her face. Her eyes and mouth are smiling and he thinks she's never looked more adorable.

"I love you too."

And suddenly, the left isn't so scary anymore.


End file.
